


Home

by TempestRising



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Gen, Laundry, Miscommunication, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, laundry is a real tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: A drabble where Dan can't do laundry next to Sock Stealing Guy, so he knocks on Phil's door instead. Domestic discussions and general Dan-anxiety ensues.Or: "So I was like 'nah mate,' put all of my clothes in a suitcase, and drove across town to where Phil's apartment was and used his washing machine. For the whole year." -Dan Howell, 2017.





	Home

"For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home."

**Stephanie Perkins**

.****.

Dan got out of the taxi and mentally cursed himself. He dropped the suitcase of laundry and fixed his hair. Sure, Phil had said to "visit any time" and that "it'll be so great to have you in town!" But, like, whatever. Dan had been going through a pretty miserable first week of Uni and the odds that this interaction would go well was near the neighborhood of zero.

Also, he'd forgotten to text Phil from the taxi, so he had no clue whether or not the other boy would even be here.

Picking back up his laundry, Dan debated the merits of the laundromat line sandwiched between Dumps Clothes on the Floor and Sock Guy. It wasn't ideal, but at least he wouldn't look like the scared noob in front of a guy who, while pretty dorky in his own right, obviously had this adult thing down pat.

But Phil's apartment had wi-fi and a comfortable chair, and Phil would probably offer to cook for him and Dan could casually mention (super casually) that he had no clue how to do the whole cooking thing and could Phil give him some basic recipes?

Debate over. Mild social awkwardness with happy friend trumps creepy place with way too many machines. So he dragged his laundry up five floors, fixed his hair one more time, and knocked.

Damnit, he'd forgotten to text again.

Before Dan could decide whether to knock again and seem desperate or bring his dirty laundry back into some guy's taxi, Phil appeared, and blinked at him. Then smiled that hundred-watt smile. "Dan! Did you say you were coming by? I probably forgot. Of course you're coming by! How many people are you rooming with?"

"Six," Dan grumbled.

"To be fair, it could be worse. Hey. Give me that." Phil took the suitcase and kicked it just into the apartment, then leaned through the doorway and gave Dan a tight hug. "Is something wrong?"

Dan cleared his throat, hoped his words weren't too watery. "No. It's just nice to only be a taxi away."

Phil let him go, though kept a hand on one shoulder, and Dan hadn't realized how much he missed physical contact until now. "You took a taxi? Dan! You're all the way across town! How much was it?"

"Less then a train ticket," Dan pointed out. "But worth it." He stepped into the apartment. Phil's laptop was open on the coffee table, a cup of coffee next to it, and he saw a lion on the couch's arm. "Are you filming a video? Did I interrupt you? Crap. Okay, I'm sorry."

"I wasn't filming anything, I was just reading my advisor's notes on my thesis. And crying over how many edits have to make. Is that a pun? It's probably not. Anyway, I could use the distraction."

"I'm not that distracting," Dan huffed. 

"Well, one, you are. I think it's the twitchiness. Two, I don't mind, because it's good to see you. And three, don't you want to do some laundry?"

Dan looked at the clothes he'd hauled across town. "I meant to text you, it's just that the laundromat was really creepy and there was this guy who just swooped in and stole someone's sock, and I burnt my dinner last night and everyone in my house is really quiet and I just wanted - " He cut himself off. Now was not the time to mull over those very temporary hormone-driven thoughts he'd been having about Phil for, oh, ever since he'd started stalking him online.

"You want to use a machine that wasn't surrounded by crazy people?" Phil guessed, helpfully. "It's why I chose the place! No way am I walking down five flights of stairs to do laundry." He led Dan over to the machines stacked behind a closet door in the narrow hallway. "I have some detergent, I think, just there. And little towels that are supposed to smell like a spring day but actually smell like lemons."

Dan looked at the set up and swallowed whatever was left of his pride. "Can you give me just a really quick laundry tutorial?"

Phil swallowed his grin admirably and pointed out where the soap goes and how to clean of lint and the power buttons and informed him that really, really posh people separate lights from colors but, like, who has the time. 

"Thanks, Phil. I feel like I..." Dan bit his lip before he gushed out all the thanks he'd built up over the past year. Phil took it all in stride, like all friends just automatically did this stuff, like Dan deserved advice and encouragement and someone to vent to and weekend getaways. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."

When he looked up Phil was frowning. "I mean, you can, if you have to go somewhere, but I need a break before I dive back into thesis crap, and you definitely need a break. Mario Cart? Or Totoro?"

They settled on Totoro, which Dan realized too late, popcorn between them, he curled against one arm and Phil the other, felt very date-like. And they'd watched movies before, sure, but there was something very domestic about the washing machine rumbling behind them, the kettle boiling, Phil's blue bedspread stretched over both their laps. 

One day, maybe soon, Dan would either have to let these feelings go or tell Phil about them. How he was starting to love every inch of Phil, and not just because he found the other man, who was, thank god, also an ungainly giant, quite fit (Dan blushed at the thought, as if Phil could read his mind). But - and perhaps more importantly - Dan liked _this_. How easily Phil accepted situations, even, especially, when Dan was so close to having a break down. How Phil always had, if not answers, at least reminders that It, whatever It is, was never the end of the world. 

Phil's socked foot brushed against Dan. Sooner, he thought, rather then later. But not now. Now he needed someone who had recently been through it, and while it was obvious that Phil was slightly more social than Dan - he'd made it through high school and Uni with real-life friends, not just internet ones - Phil wasn't like that rowing captain who had waylaid Dan at club day. He wasn't the type to get up at five in the morning and row across a frigid lake. He was the type to be up until four marathoning Buffy, again. 

"Dan, you're thinking very loudly." Phil glanced at him. "Do you want to pause the movie? You can scroll through memes."

For some reason that simple suggestion was what had Dan dabbing at his eyes and, while his sleeve was still blocking his face, Dan found the courage to say, "Did you ever think that maybe you weren't cut out for school?"

Phil sat upright. "Oh, Dan. You're so smart."

Dan choked a little. Smarts were a little debatable, but grades were never a problem for him. "Not classes, everything else."

"Sure. All the time." Phil held out his arms and Dan shifted so that he could lean against Phil's boney chest. "I called my mum the first day and begged her to let me transfer. I was only an hour away from home and that was too far. You know what she did?" Dan did know but he liked Phil talking. "She said that if I didn't call her until October, and I didn't come home, that in four weeks she'd let me transfer, if I still wanted to. Then she hung up."

Dan started doing that thinking thing again, and wondered if this was Phil's way of saying he should quit cold turkey. That they should quit, for a little while. "But you made friends," Dan pointed out.  
"So will you."

"I'm not you!"

Phil snorted. "You're funnier, and you care about people, and you're wicked smart."

"Wicked," Dan mimicked, because he could, because he couldn't thank Phil for all the things Phil had done for him and here the older boy was, complementing him again.

Phil bullied forward. "Your whole life, you've only been judged by this one thing, yeah? It's all about getting good grades to get into the right school to get the right job to have good kids who will do the same thing. But there's other things out there." He let Dan up. The washer stopped clanging. Phil smirked. "There's YouTube."

Dan swiped his hair out of his eyes. "Have you looked at the comments on the phil is not on fire video?"  
"Pretty cool, right? I told you. And you're already great at it!"

That was another thing Phil had given him. "I'm basically piggy-backing off your subscribers."

For the first time that day, Phil frowned. He stood, and since Dan was sitting on his legs, Dan had to scramble to not fall. "Go put your clothes in the dryer, okay? I'll be back in ten minutes." He was already gathering phone, keys, wallet. 

Dan shook his head. "What? Where? Phil, come on - what did I say?"

"Nothing, I'll just be back." Phil winked, and was out the door. 

Dan thought, as he put his clothes in the dryer, that he would never be able to master a wink. He also thought - I mean, there's really nothing else to think - that he'd driven Phil out of his own home. By thinking too loudly and complaining like he always did, and he usually left Phil thinking that the other man was too good for him, and Dan was too young and had the wrong number of fingers or something because Phil would always, always see him as the kid who always needed saving. 

And now Phil was gone, and he was either doing productive things like paying the milk man (Dan was pretty sure there wasn't a milk man anymore but he couldn't make pasta yesterday, the world is an inscrutable place) or he was doing something super nice, like buying Dan chocolate. 

Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes, and that's when Dan started thinking that maybe Phil was just waiting for him to leave. 

The cycle had another thirty minutes and Dan didn't really want to bring sopping-wet clothes into a taxi and he thought, he was pretty sure, that if he'd done something wrong Phil would just tell him, because Phil was a nice guy, and he was probably on his way back now. 

He was reading through Phil's Dean's notes on Phil's thesis and getting more incensed by the paragraph when Phil walked in. "He thinks that your general style is 'sloppy and immature' and thinks that you should 'check and double-check transisitions' and you let me come in here and complain?"

Phil closed the door. "Hi to you, too. You don't have to read that."

"How come you're not more upset about this?"

It looked like Phil was genuinely thinking about the question, and he shrugged. "It's just one person's opinion. And, I don't know, bad comments don't really affect me. Anymore, I guess."

Good, Dan thought, because he'd looked through the comments on Phil's videos which were genuinely cheery and enthusiastic but if you got deep enough there were those comments about the jumpy editing or Phil's voice or hair or body and rude comments about his supposed sexuality that Dan may have read into too much.

"Anyway," Phil interrupted Dan's thoughts. "I'm really, really taking a break from thinking about thesis, so not to change the subject or anything, but - "

"But to change the subject," Dan supplied, grinning. 

Phil reached into his pocket and took out a key. "I got one for you. Just in case I'm not here and there's a serious laundry emergency. Or if your roommates are being extra weird. Or if you just want to crash for a little while..." Phil trailed off when it became obvious Dan wasn't going to take the key.

He couldn't. He was just gaping. "You know how to make a key?"

"Uh, no. I went down to the hardware store and it took about a minute. I was only gone for so long because there was a strange little girl asking people about balloons and I thought she was lost."

Dan felt both like he had to laugh and like he really, really needed to cry. "Of course. The only explanation."

Phil grabbed Dan's hand and slipped the key into it. "I'm just going to say some things and you can interrupt me if I'm wrong. I think that you think that you come over here and I let you in because I feel sorry for you. And I think you think you're quite clingy. And I think you think that you need me more than I need you. But that's not true."

"Which part?"

"This is why your parents think you're going to be a great lawyer. All of it, Daniel. All of it. I like you. I like having you around. I want you to be happy because you're my best friend."

Dan had never had a best friend before but he wasn't pathetic enough to say that out loud. He took the key, pocketed it. "I really - just - you know. Thank you." If he was going to tell Phil about his feelings, doing it after the other man said "I like you" was probably a good time, but Dan couldn't do it. Not yet. Soon, maybe. Soon.

Phil reached out smoothly and drew Dan close in a fluid movement. Phil was taller by half a head. It was a good hug. "I found a new sushi place the other day that I think you'll like."

Dan pretended to gape. "You _lead_ with sushi, Phil! Why are we sitting around here waiting for clothes to dry when there's sashimi down the street?"

"It's just gone four."

"Linner, then. Hurry up, Lester, I have a sense of smell attuned to wasabi."

"You know most wasabi is horse raddish, right?"

"Liar."

"Read it on the internet."

"No wonder you're getting your Masters degree, your research skills are astounding." Dan patted his pocket, just to make sure the key was still there, holding open the door as Phil about-faced into the hallway. "Read it on the internet," Dan snorted. 

Phil rolled his eyes, tossed over his shoulder; "Lock the door, would you?"

And Dan did, patting his key again once he returned it to his pocket, jumping down a flight of stairs and almost on to Phil's back, and Phil started running, nearly tripping, and Dan ran after him, unable to stop the rush of affection that climbed warmly up his chest when he found Phil waiting, loyally, for him to catch up.

**Author's Note:**

> Again for my little sister, who texted me while the Giants were losing and I thought I might as well write this.


End file.
